Saturday, July 3, 2010

Winter King Selection 3: Avis Amor (Part Two)


Avis Amor (Part Two)


The bird made a simple request
of me, asked a simple inquiry
while looking left to right, it’s
head dodging to its simple plight.

Follow the trail of tears, I thought,
for their memories called me in that direction.

A thin veil laced the land in
frozen droplets; a rainbow
formed across the sky, but
reflected not the light nor
the spectrum of the dew,
rather, it diffused the antimatter
of the land.

Then a chorus came like the sound of
a hundred birds chirping. A black cloud
rushed in the sky crying in frantic fervor.

“Heart!” the bird squawked, a stringent
heat seeping off it’s coat.

The black dove flock sped to me
like a wall of cloaks and curtains.

“Heart! Heart!” they cried bursting
like a flare. The sky was ablaze; the
fire cracked the air.

What marvel their flame produced!
They screamed, they screeched,
muting the clarions of the sea!
They were past! They were present!

They were the lines that cast themselves
in circles! The birds erupted as they
plummeted into the ground.

Around me, the ring I stood in cindered,
the fire breathing dirt. The black doves
spoke like death, never saying a single
word.

Then I felt a smolder, a black coal on my
shoulder. The bird that cried “heart!” had
yet to depart for it anchored itself with a
stubborn adamancy.

The spark ignited its eyes,
the flare flamed through its
feathers and I seized the bird,
I gripped it like a splint until
I heard a single crack like
wood beset by fire.

And as the loathsome creature passed,
the ground began to quake. The circle
I stood in held fast though as the ice
glass around fractured, shattered,
and collapsed.

A thousand windows broken,
a house of glass cracked open,
the world dropped around me.
against the magenta sky, on a
sphere tier, on a single spire in
empty space I stood.

The foundation was weaker now
as my mind rippled like a wave.
I grasped the three tears as if
they’d help me keep my balance.

One bead melted away as I held
them to my face, so I gazed into
the second tear and the sky,
the spire, and the bird slowly
disappeared.


--Michael Aaron Casares is the editor of Carcinogenic Poetry and owns/operates Virgogray Press, an indie press working out of Austin, TX that specializes in poetry chapbooks and anthologies. His work has appeared in several recent online and print publications. He has authored four collections of poetry with Virgogray, New Polish Beat and Shadow Archer Press. Michael also paints; his work can be seen at the Calcasieu Gallery and other venues in San Antonio, TX.

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